I cant believe the accidents i've seen
there was terror in the air
i felt it, everybody felt it
It was cold and we're standing around in the cold
Something has to start something
but nothing comes
only the vampires of seduction
and they drink all our blood
but other wise i'm fine
You won't believe this because I just started talking about it
when i was nine the babysitter drank my blood
so ive been a vampire the whole time!
hahahahah!!!!!
You fools, you must have been really dumb
Now you can live forever
Isn't that a beautiful thing

alright lets get away from vampires and hell
the weather is nice
the sun is shining
It's a nice day
You should go for a walk
Make sure you remember your wallet, keys, cell phone and shoes

well i'm out of my parents' house finally, but not on good terms. that's how things end sometimes. there comes a time when you have to move on along.

I was treating the lamb like an animal
I led him up the mountain where the water opened up and the sky got dark
our memories were reversed. we thought the past was the future
nobody noticed. i heard feedback

don't give up, we can come together
get yr halo up from around yr ankles
come on and don't stare into the water
narcisisim is a crying shame
wake up stink holes

come to our show - cd release party/possible last show:

I'm going to be institutionalized again
I just can't seem to get it right
At least it's only ten days

Sheep in Fog
The hills step off into whiteness.
People or stars
Regard me sadly, I disappoint them.

The train leaves a line of breath.
O slow
Horse the colour of rust,

Hooves, dolorous bells -
All morning the
Morning has been blackening,

A flower left out.
My bones hold a stillness, the far
Fields melt my heart.

They threaten
To let me through to a heaven
Starless and fatherless, a dark water.

-sylvia plath

How did you get away?
You were the pet falcon of an old woman.
Did you hear the falcon-drum?
You were a drunken songbird put in with owls.
Did you smell the odor of a garden?
You got tired of sour fermenting
and left the tavern.

You went like an arrow to the target
from the bow of time and place.
The man who stays at the cemetery pointed the way,
but you didn't go.
You became light and gave up wanting to be famous.
You don't worry about what you're going to eat,
so why buy an engraved belt?

I've heard of living at the center, but what about
leaving the center of the center?
Flying toward thankfulness, you become
the rare bird with one wing made of fear,
and one of hope. In autumn,
a rose crawling along the ground in the cold wind.
Rain on the roof runs down and out by the spout
as fast as it can.

Talking is pain. Lie down and rest,
now that you've found a friend to be with.

-Rumi

How am I supposed to feel

Please hold me. the square scorns the circle in the night. now the knives hover above the head. a square in a round box. what tools you needed. i think i have them. what work youre doing. i think i'm doing it. we haven't spoke in a while. what's the news. how've you been. take care. think of me often. don't let me slip slip away. come back and say hello. sorry to let myself slip slip away. i didn't mean for it to get like this. go on to the window. watch the carrages drawn by the equine elite. nothing is too good for you . don't let me slip slip away. don't let me be a casualty. your ghost is here always. i'm always seeing yr ghost. i'm not afraid, but it doesn't keep me company like you do. it's always so cold and when i get cold i tremble like an aspen leaf. making a wonderful swishing sound in the wind. got to get out of the box. don't let me slip slip away. i'm coming down fast. i hit the ground hard. hard to get back up. who are you. where are you going. who were you. i'm sorry to say i never knew you before. but i knew you. and once i loved you i couldn't start to hate you. now watch the window. do you see my ghost. i'm alone. i'm just one spirit in the puzzle universe. questions lead me here. i'm not here. i'm alone.

Noah and the Faeries

Noah was naked and drunk in the bushes. His specticals being broken, he naturally saw some faeries bussing around his head. "Will you take me away to your heavenly kingdom?" he asked. Some said yes; some said no. Discouraged, he began to masturbate to ease the pain. The faeries were very curious about this act. Faeries don't have genitals, you see. They thought he was having a seizure as he came. The trees wept sticky tears of sap. The whole hedgerow burst out in laughter and some of the shrubs even caught fire. Noah had made a fool out of himself in front of mother nature. Meanwhile the faeries were shape-shifting into sdquirrels and frogs and departing, on their way somewhere in a hurry.

Get along little piggies
Just try to get alone.

Ordinary Things


She was pulling her own teeth out in the café where I was eating. Some of the other patrons were bothered by it, but I was not afraid. I just kept masticating my grilled cheese and imbibing a sizeable amount of black coffee. The food was not especially good, but I was particularly hungry on that day.

I had come in to the place to get out of the rain. It had been raining for three days straight. I missed the bus I needed to get on by a few seconds so I became stranded downtown. Like a lost child I wandered the streets in a search for somewhere dry. So I stepped into the St. Ambrose Café and ordered some things from the menu. Luckily I had a ten dollar bill burning a hole in my pocket that day.

It wasn’t until I sat down that I realized how hungry I actually was. When they brought my grilled cheese out to me I started eating manically. I did look up from my plate for several seconds, but when I did there she was pulling out her teeth.

After that I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She was a beautiful girl with long, wavy, black hair and a fascinating face. Why was she pulling her teeth? Was this some nervous habit?

The manager of the café kept yelling at her saying that she had better clean up the blood because it wasn’t sanitary for someone to be doing dental surgery in a restaurant. She acted as though he didn’t exist.

When the last tooth had been pulled she walked out of the place leaving behind a pool of blood and about twenty shiny teeth.

I felt compelled to follow her. I left behind a half a grilled sandwich and an empty coffee mug. I flung the doors of the café open and started chasing the girl down the street. I wasn’t sure what I was going to say when I actually caught up to her. Here is what I did say.

Me: Hey, what are you doing?
Her: Same thing as you I guess [sounding like there was cotton in her mouth].
Me: What was going on in the café back there?
Her: Oh, I read somewhere in the bible that if a part of your body is stumbling you, you should cut it off. It’s lent you see and I’ve given up chewing as my penance. Would you like to come over to my place and read the bible with me?
Me: It’s not something I normally do, but I guess, why not?

Her studio apartment was only a few blocks away. When I stepped in I immediately smelled a smell like a skunk’s spray. There were little piles of dirty clothes everywhere. Some of them had blood on the, some of them didn’t.

“I’m an artist, you see. My life is my masterpiece. You can’t get to the moon with teeth, just like how you can’t stop yourself from peeing in a public swimming pool,” she said.
“Hey, do you want to listen to a record?” She had taken off her shirt.
I asked her if she had any Iron Butterfly records. She didn’t, but she did have the Soft Machine. “That sounds good then,” I replied.

We sat still, staring at each other for hours. We listened to Woody Guthrie, Syd Barrett and Donavan. Finally she pulled out a joint and said, “Do you want to smoke?” I told her I did, but I had better get going soon.

“It’s okay, I’m used to it.” I thought that reply to be very strange.

So after achieving intoxication I said goodbye and went back out into the streets. Everything seemed slanted to me. Cities usually a built to go up and down, vertical, but this city seemed full of acute and obtuse angles. The rain had let up and I was feeling optimistic. I managed to find another bus to catch that would bring me close to home, but it wouldn’t arrive for another half an hour.

I killed time talking to a homeless man with a harmonica. He told me tall tales: “When I used to own the Empire State Building I was something of a man. Then my spirit broke like glass and I became the shattered image that you see before you now.”

I told him he looked good with a long beard and his tattered clothes weren’t too bad of a fashion statement either. There are lots of kids who pay big bucks for a look like that.

Him: Well, I left all those superficial things behind. Now I’m home free as they say. No more worries. I don’t even as for change. [He blew a few notes on his harmonica] You don’t have any change do you?
Me: No, I haven’t changed in a while. I’m still who I was a few years ago.
Him: Me, I’ve made big changes. I used to be the captain of a great big clipper ship. I had underlings and everything. Now I’m just underneath. I’m like a worm in the ground now.
Me: I know what you mean. Well, here comes my bus. It was nice talking to you.

The bus driver looked like she wasn’t having a very good day, so I decided not to say ‘hi.’ My temporary companions on the bus had colorful faces. One man was green, another blue. A twelve year old girl was orange. What looked like her mother was all white. Another woman was all purple. It was a most interesting crowd visually. I wondered if they were all from the circus.

When I got home I found my cat lying dead on the kitchen floor. He had gotten into one of the poison traps I had set for ants. I cried a single tear and put the cadaver in the freezer.

That night I watched four movies in a row stopping only to get a beer from the fridge from time to time. I didn’t sleep until 3am. While I was sleeping I had a dream about the beach and the girl with the bloody, toothless mouth.

I felt those funny feelings in my head
And I wanted to feel them again
My brain had felt a sea change
And the light did bend for me

Until I spotted a lamb on the hill
And I heard its profound bleeting
Nothing would come between me
And the light that was bending

love is a too much thing
a yearning undiscerning thing
i gravitate toward love
and love just runs away
taking me like a kite
always in the air
like a kid and a kite
love is a too much thing

Our death is our wedding with eternity.
What is the secret? "God is One."
The sunlight splits when entering the windows of the house.
This multiplicity exists in the cluster of grapes;
It is not in the juice made from the grapes.
For he who is living in the Light of God,
The death of the carnal soul is a blessing.
Regarding him, say neither bad nor good,
For he is gone beyond the good and the bad.
Fix your eyes on God and do not talk about what is invisible,
So that he may place another look in your eyes.
It is in the vision of the physical eyes
That no invisible or secret thing exists.
But when the eye is turned toward the Light of God
What thing could remain hidden under such a Light?
Although all lights emanate from the Divine Light
Don't call all these lights "the Light of God";
It is the eternal light which is the Light of God,
The ephemeral light is an attribute of the body and the flesh.
...Oh God who gives the grace of vision!
The bird of vision is flying towards You with the wings of desire.

-rumi

gale force winds berate me. dead lovers ride with enormous dead love. the sound quickens sounding the sirens in the jails. human love stands by. ugly love makes lip contact. remember spartacus and his legions of lovers. remember che's motorcycle lovers. the clouds love the sky, but the sky loves the night. will they ever wetly dream. what space and what multitude ! of stars the reason broke, a slave within a star dreamers dreamins sweetly. wahat sweetness? of honey? of wine? of roses! where the plank broke. the diviners did encircle the star. now the shadows eat the street. now the sky betrays the clouds. no one willl sit upon them. will you? the heavens and the angels fell. now full with mystic smog. hava nagila mahalo. grass pours green pigment on white robes. and im washing these robes. and im forgetting better days remembering only the nightmre days. mahalo. wind sweeps fresh like honey? like wine? dust of stars will see her revenge.
again lazy in sister kingdom. rascal memery fights. out with the ebb. now where dogs flow. upstream dream of dirty dancing summers. wow down like fellow. this discouraged fellowship. a background dream. calls on thee machine where pieces go. in the ebb and flow. gray ghost creeper swallow my malcontent. graceful ghoul behaving in shadow. behaviors disintegrating. my noise for this soundtrack. tapes follow unweb fashions. wearing whit wearing white. songs drown in the chatter. hahahahahahahaha a clown spinning spinning. whatt pleasantt charm i wrotea letter i wrote a picture and a picture is 1000 words. noon rising moon. what an awful picture. cigarette burns on my blanket. wait was that a picture. did i see a picture?

peace on the planet, peace on earth, peace in heaven, peace in the dirt
the soil is fine, the wine and the bread
we'll all have a fine time making up time
who am i -
pause for reflection
peace on ice
pause for recollection

The Minotaur's song
By Robin Williamson

Straight from the shoulder
I think like a soldier
I know what's right and what's wrong
He knows what's right and what's wrong.

I'm the original discriminating buffalo man
And I'll do what's wrong as long as I can
He'll do what's wrong as long as he can

I live in a labyrinth under the sea
Down in the dark as dark as can be
I like the dark as dark as can be
He likes the dark as dark as can be

I'll even attack you or eat you whole
Down in the dark my bone mills roll
Porridge for my porridge bowl
Porridge for his porridge bowl

I'm strong as the earth from which I'm born
He's strong as the earth from which he's born
I can't dream well because of my horns
He can't dream well because of his horns

Moo

I'm strong as the earth from which I'm born
He's strong as the earth from which he's born
I can't dream well because of my horns
He can't dream well because of his horns

A minotaur gets very sore
His features they are such a bore
His habits are predicta-bull
Aggressively relia-bull, bull, bull

I'm strong as the earth from which I'm born
He's strong as the earth from which he's born
I can't dream well because of my horns
He can't dream well because of his horns

I'm the original discriminating buffalo man
And I'll do what's wrong as long as I can
He'll do what's wrong as long as he can

It is a winter's tale
That the snow blind twilight ferries over the lakes
And floating fields from the farm in the cup of the vales,
Gliding windless through the hand folded flakes,
The pale breath of cattle at the stealthy sail,

And the stars falling cold,
And the smell of hay in the snow, and the far owl
Warning among the folds, and the frozen hold
Flocked with the sheep white smoke of the farm house cowl
In the river wended vales where the tale was told.

Once when the world turned old
On a star of faith pure as the drifting bread,
As the food and flames of the snow, a man unrolled
The scrolls of fire that burned in his heart and head,
Torn and alone in a farm house in a fold

Of fields. And burning then
In his firelit island ringed by the winged snow
And the dung hills white as wool and the hen
Roosts sleeping chill till the flame of the cock crow
Coombs through the mantled yards and the morning men

Stumble out with their spades,
The cattle stirring, the mousing cat steppin shy,
The puffed birds hopping and hunting, the milkmaids
Gentle in their clogs over the fallen sky,
And all the woken farm at its white trades,

He knelt, he wept, he prayed,
By the spit and the black pot in the log bright light
And the cup and the cut bread in the dancing shade,
In the muffled house, in the quick of night,
At the point of love, forsaken and afraid.

He knelt on the cold stones,
He wept from the crest of grief, he prayed to the veiled sky
May his hunger go howling on bare white bones
Past the statues of the stables and the sky roofed sties
And the duck pond glass and the blinding byres alone

Into the home of prayers
And fires where he should prowl down the cloud
Of his snow blind love and rush in the white lairs.
His naked need struck him howling and bowed
Though no sound flowed down the hand folded air

But only the wind strung
Hunger of birds in the fields of the bread of water, tossed
In high corn and the harvest melting on their tongues.
And his nameless need bound him burning and lost
When cold as snow he should run the wended vales among

The rivers mouthed in night,
And drown in the drifts of his need, and lie curled caught
In the always desiring centre of the white
Inhuman cradle and the bride bed forever sought
By the believer lost and the hurled outcast of light.

Deliver him, he cried,
By losing him all in love, and cast his need
Alone and naked in the engulfing bride,
Never to flourish in the fields of the white seed
Or flower under the time dying flesh astride.

Listen. The minstrels sing
In the departed villages. The nightingale,
Dust in the buried wood, flies on the grains of her wings
And spells on the winds of the dead his winter's tale.
The voice of the dust of water from the withered spring

Is telling. The wizened
Stream with bells and baying water bounds. The dew rings
On the gristed leaves and the long gone glistening
Parish of snow. The carved mouths in the rock are wind swept strings.
Time sings through the intricately dead snow drop. Listen.

It was a hand or sound
In the long ago land that glided the dark door wide
And there outside on the bread of the ground
A she bird rose and rayed like a burning bride.
A she bird dawned, and her breast with snow and scarlet downed.

Look. And the dancers move
On the departed, snow bushed green, wanton in moon light
As a dust of pigeons. Exulting, the graved hooved
Horses, centaur dead, turn and tread the drenched white
Paddocks in the farms of birds. The dead oak walks for love.

The carved limbs in the rock
Leap, as to trumpets. Calligraphy of the old
Leaves is dancing. Lines of age on the stone weave in a flock.
And the harp shaped voice of the water's dust plucks in a fold
Of fields. For love, the long ago she bird rises. Look.

And the wild wings were raised
Above her folded head, and the soft feathered voice
Was flying through the house as though the she bird praised
And all the elements of the slow fall rejoiced
That a man knelt alone in the cup of the vales,

In the mantle and calm,
By the spit and the black pot in the log bright light.
And the sky of birds in the plumed voice charmed
Him up and he ran like a wind after the kindling flight
Past the blind barns and byres of the windless farm.

In the poles of the year
When black birds died like priests in the cloaked hedge row
And over the cloth of counties the far hills rode near,
Under the one leaved trees ran a scarecrow of snow
And fast through the drifts of the thickets antlered like deer,

Rags and prayers down the knee-
Deep hillocks and loud on the numbed lakes,
All night lost and long wading in the wake of the she-
Bird through the times and lands and tribes of the slow flakes.
Listen and look where she sails the goose plucked sea,

The sky, the bird, the bride,
The cloud, the need, the planted stars, the joy beyond
The fields of seed and the time dying flesh astride,
The heavens, the heaven, the grave, the burning font.
In the far ago land the door of his death glided wide

And the bird descended.
On a bread white hill over the cupped farm
And the lakes and the floating fields and the river wended
Vales where he prayed to come to the last harm
And the home of prayers and fires, the tale ended.

The dancing perishes
On the white, no longer growing green, and, minstrel dead,
The singing breaks in the snow shoed villages of wishes
That once cut the figures of birds on the deep bread
And over the glazed lakes skated the shapes of fishes

Flying. The rite is shorn
Of nightingale and centaur dead horse. The springs wither
Back. Lines of age sleep on the stones till trumpeting dawn.
Exultation lies down. Time buries the spring weather
That belled and bounded with the fossil and the dew reborn.

For the bird lay bedded
In a choir of wings, as though she slept or died,
And the wings glided wide and he was hymned and wedded,
And through the thighs of the engulfing bride,
The woman breasted and the heaven headed

Bird, he was brought low,
Burning in the bride bed of love, in the whirl-
Pool at the wanting centre, in the folds
Of paradise, in the spun bud of the world.
And she rose with him flowering in her melting snow.




From Dylan Thomas: The Poems, published by J.M. Dent & Sons Ltd., London, 1971
Copyright © 1937, 1945, 1955, 1956, 1962, 1965, 1966, 1967, 1971, 1977 The Trustees for the Copyrights of Dylan Thomas

The bread got colder as it sat in the fridge. With contempt for the other food items the bread seethed. It had just been baked two days previous. Ornery from the start this particular marble rye took no joy out of being sliced into pieces and then being eaten alive. Maybe it was all that yeast that made our friend the way he was.

Can you get out my git
I’m gonna have a fit
Gone is my loosened mit
I’m a goner this time around

Do you sound like this or that
Can you make sound in a hat
Where do you keep yr fat
I’m sorry but I’ll never get you